Haunted on Bourbon Street by Deanna Chase

stood there wondering what in the hell just happened. The room suddenly became very cold, snapping me out of my trance. I turned toward the window and saw the outline of a medium-built, fair-haired man. The apparition grew into an almost solid image, took two steps, and vanished.
    Shock rooted me to the floor.
     
     

Chapter 5
    What the hell was that?
    My heart hammered against my chest, and I stopped breathing at the same time. The combination made my head spin. I forced myself to take deep breaths. My right arm wasn’t shooting with pain, so I knew I hadn’t suffered cardiac arrest. Though for a minute there, I wasn’t so sure. When my heart slowed to a relatively normal rate, I moved cautiously through the apartment, scanning the emotional energy.
    When I’d completed my circle without incident, my shoulders relaxed. Had I imagined the apparition? I didn’t think so. Maybe it wasn’t just my apartment that was haunted. Maybe the ghost haunted the whole building, and he’d left for the night. I could only hope. Grateful I had somewhere to be, I wasted no time getting ready for work.
    After searching my closet, I dressed in a long pencil skirt and a wrap-around top, cut low in the front. Slipping on my only pair of heels—cute, strappy, black ones—I checked myself out in the bathroom mirror. Perfect if I was headed out for a date. Maybe a little overdressed for working a bar at a strip club, but I didn’t have anything else suitable. It would have to do.
    Grabbing my keys, I took one last look at my apartment. Satisfied my ghost was still absent, I locked the door behind me and headed for the club.
    A few minutes later I paused, letting my eyes adjust as I entered Wicked. The lights were dim as usual, but the place hadn’t started to fill up yet. Eight-thirty was still on the early side for a strip club. A cute, tiny blonde dancing on stage caught my eye. I frowned, wondering why anyone would want to strip down and get felt up by random guys every night. It made my skin crawl thinking about it.
    I closed my eyes and focused on constructing my emotional barrier. Once my cylinder was in place I made my way over to the bar toward Pyper and Charlie. “Hey, I’m a bit early.”
    “Good, that’ll give Charlie more time to get you up to speed.” Pyper stepped closer. “That’s one hell of a shiner you have above your eye.”
    “Thanks.” I reached up, trying to cover it with a piece of my hair.
    Pyper laughed. “You’re fighting a losing battle.”
    “Ah, give my girl a break. It takes talent to look that hot with half your forehead black and blue,” Charlie said, waving toward a stool. “Sit down. I’ll get you a drink.”
    Seeing Pyper nod, I happily obliged.
    Charlie set a tall, slender glass of ice and a diet Coke on the counter and held up a bottle of rum in question.
    “No thanks. I took some pain pills. I don’t think that’s a good combination.” Apparently drinking on the job was optional. Why not? It was a strip club.
    “You’re such a good girl,” Charlie said, winking at me.
    I snorted. “I need lessons on misbehaving.” I’d forgotten what it felt like to let loose every once in a while. Ever since I landed in New Orleans I’d been the height of Miss Responsibility. Something was seriously wrong with me. I had done nothing but work since I got here. Eyeing Pyper, I mentally penciled in a night on the town. No doubt she’d coax me into something not suitable for the PG-13 crowd.
    “No time like the present,” Charlie said, spiking my drink with some Captain Morgan’s.
    “Oh crap. I’m gonna need a keeper by the time the night is over.” I scowled, but picked up my glass and took a long swig. “Ahhh.”
    Both of them laughed.
    “I need two hurricanes,” someone said behind me.
    I swiveled, finding Holly, the assistant manager from the café, in a bar maid outfit.
    ”Hey, I didn’t know you were working here, too,” I said.
    She shrugged. “Pyper needed